Nick Harper signs on
by gypsy rosalie
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin. Martina gets more than she bargained for when Nick comes down to scrounge for money and discuss his harebrained schemes.


**Pointless short sketch, with anachronisms for obvious reasons (80s show meets 2000s show) in which Nick Harper goes down the DHSS to sign on. This doesn't really have much of a plot, and I'm not sure as yet how well Nick turned out. Please excuse any typos I missed in editing.**

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'Er, excuse me?' Martina waved her hand in front of her client's face. 'Was there somethin' you wanted, or did you come down 'ere just to mindlessly stare at me over the counter?'

The rather gangly and strange-looking young man who sat before her gave a goofy grin. Martina fought back the urge to shuffle her chair back a few feet. This abnormally cheerful youth unsettled her more than the usual mould of scrounger who demanded money from her- and that included the Boswells. She forced herself to remain steely.

'Hah,' said the youth, tossing his head.

Martina waited for him to say something else, but he just went on smiling, his head nodding on his neck, lending him the appearance of a giraffe on drugs.

'Well, go on,' said Martina, tapping impatiently on the desk. 'What's your excuse? Somethin' stolen off your washin' line? A new business you want to start up The rent's gone up?'

'No,' he said, then smiled hamsterishly, 'but those are great ideas!' He plucked the pen from her hand and started scribbling on his arm.

'Ah, yes, they are, aren't they?' Martina said in a falsely sweet tone. 'They're _wonderful!_'

'Well, not _wonderful, _per se- I'd say more of a _mildly useful_…'

'That's enough, Mister…' she paused, not knowing how to address him and expecting him to provide her with a name.

'Oh, I dunno, _Missus_,' he said, 'I think we could go a bit further!'

Martina rolled her eyes. 'What is it you want?'

The young man looked at her as if it was hilariously obvious.

'Money.'

Well, that was blunt, but at least he'd gotten to the point. It could take some people several minutes- or in Joey Boswell's case, hours- to get through the long-winded excuses and admit that was what they wanted. Still, it disarmed her a little- the fact that someone could be that transparent.

'What for?'

He waggled his eyebrows. 'To spend.'

'On,' said Martina slowly and in frustration, '_what_?'

'I don't think I should say,' he said, daft grin still cemented to his face, 'I don't usually divulge my private personal plans…at least not til after the third date.' He waggled his brows again. 'Or the first if you don't wear a bra.'

'This is the DHSS,' Martina began, preparing to tell him off, 'Mister…'

Again, her attempt to get hold of his name was in vain.

'I know it is, _Missus._ That's why I came here.' His face suddenly turned serious. 'Are you inferring that I don't know where I am?'

From dopily cheery to about-to-burst-into-tears in three seconds flat. There was something seriously wrong with this boy.

_Don't know where you are? In my opinion you're not all there. Just my luck to be landed with all the bizarre cases._

Martina had had more than enough of this.

'Look, _what-is-your-name?!'_ she hissed through gritted teeth.

'Nick.'

She sighed. '_Full_ name?'

'Nick the Incredible and Reasonably-Priced Balloon Animal Artist!' the boy said proudly, producing a long, thin balloon, of the variety used by circus clowns. It had been blown up, but not twisted into anything at all.

'This one's a snake.'

'It's…fabulous…' Martina said in disgusted disbelief, resisting the desire to pick up her pen and stab Nick's 'creation'. 'What's it gotta do with me?'

'Oh, d'you want it, then?' he pulled it back. 'It'll only cost you five quid.'

'No, I don't want it! Get rid of it!'

'Okay, whatever you say.' He smiled. 'The removal fee is only five quid.'

'Get rid of it or I will get rid of it for you,' Martina growled, giving in and holding her pen threateningly over the balloon snake.

'Hey! You're a bit like my Dad!'

'I don't _care_ about yer Dad.'

'He's a dentist, you know. Only his tools sort of got sold.'

'Look, what is your surname and what do you want?!'

'For your information, it's Harper,' said Nick, suddenly assuming a tremendously posh voice, 'although throughout my careers I have been known as Brian Miles, magician, Nick Naked, and…'

'All right, all right,' Martina held up her hands, 'it's Harper. I think we can manage that.'

She wrote down the name 'Nick Harper' on her form, shuddering to think what 'Nick Naked' got up to in his spare time.

'What exactly was the point of showin' me yer balloon animals, Mister Harper? Would this be, by any chance, part of some brilliant plan to get yer 'ands on a lot o' money?'

'Nah, it's just a sideline,' Nick grinned. 'I've got an even more brilliant plan to get a lotta money.'

She dreaded to ask. 'Which is?'

Nick raised his arms. 'To come here.'

'What?'

'To come here,' repeated Nick, clearly proud of himself, though for the life of her Martina couldn't see what he had to be proud of himself for.

'I'm afraid I don't follow you, Mister Harper.'

'I come here, get cash…I don't even have to do anything!' he gave a self-satisfied nod. 'Can't think of a better job, can you?'

Oh. She got it now. He was a lunatic. Martina clenched her right hand into a fist, praying for strength to endure imbeciles like this.

'I mean, you think you've thought up the perfect business venture,' Nick continued, suddenly sounding emotional again, 'and time after time you fail. You get sacked, your father refuses to hire you even when you're wearing a false moustache, nobody appreciates your art….' He made a wounded face, '…your motorcycle crashes into a cow…'

'Please tell me you aren't serious!' It was apparent enough now that Nick Harper had merely woken up one day and decided to just give signing-on a go in between harebrained schemes.

'At least with this there's an a hundred per cent chance of success!'

'Signin' on is not a job, Mister Harper. It's scroungin'. It's getting' something for nothing.'

'And that's the beauty of it.' He tapped the side of his nose.

Martina gave up, pushing a form towards him. 'Fill that in.'

Nick Harper's face turned to horror as he gazed at the paper in front of him. He put one hand on his chest.

'They never told me I had to write anything!' he looked up at her, wide-eyed, as if she were personally responsible for some world-class betrayal. 'Something for nothing, you said! I've been _deceived.'_

'What did you expect?' Martina cried, exasperated. 'Did you honestly think you could just come down 'ere and we'd hand money to you over the desk?'

'Pshaw. Well, yeah.'

'We do 'ave _rules_, you know, Mister Harper- and if you're getting' something for nothing, you obey them.'

'Heyyy, Missus Ladayyyy, if that's the way you wanna play it. I'll sign your form.'

Sighing with overwhelming relief, Martina pushed the form and pen closer towards him.

'If you'll do one thing for me.'

Put a hold on the relief.

'What _now_?'

He leaned in close, and Martina shuddered.

'Make a noise like a giraffe.'

'_What?'_ Martina slammed her hands down on the desk. He was mad. There was no doubt about it- the boy was completely and utterly mad!

'Just fill in the form and go!' she growled.

'Noooo,' Nick said with a grin like a weasel, 'not until you do the noise.'

Martina put her head in her hands with a shrill cry of exasperation. If only he would just go _away_.

She raised her head, looking through her fingers, unrealistically hoping that he might have vanished. He hadn't.

'That's not the noise a giraffe makes,' Nick said. 'Go on. Try again!'

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**Well, Nick was hard to get right, and the whole thing turned out a bit silly, but it was fun to write :D Hope it turned out okay :D**


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